


Sealskin

by LostCauses (Anteros)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Islands, M/M, Modern AU, Selkies, eruri - Freeform, selkie levi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-01-23 01:34:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18539596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anteros/pseuds/LostCauses
Summary: Erwin is an environmental scientist, a driven man on a mission to save the world. His research does not normally involve fieldwork, and it certainly does not normally involve spending six months of the year at the university’s field station on a remote island in the North Atlantic, with only seals for company.  But the solitude of the island and a chance encounter with a curious stranger bring a profound revelation.





	1. Crossing the Firth

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is very loosely based on Maurice Lindsay's short story _Sealskin Trousers_ , written in 1946. I've wanted to write a selkie fic for years, and this is it. None of the places mentioned in this story are real, but they're all based on the islands in the North of Scotland where I grew up.

Erwin clutched the arm of his seat, closing his eyes and swallowing back the nausea as the ferry lurched and shuddered, grey waves slapping hard against the side of the ship. They were barely half way across the Firth and he was starting to seriously question the wisdom of his decision. Nagging tendrils of doubt clawed at his already roiling stomach. His friend Mike’s words kept coming back to him, repeating over and over like a stuck record. Was that still a thing? Did people still play records? He wondered distractedly, as the ship pitched again and his stomach lurched dangerously.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Mike’s voice came back to him, filtering through the haze of nausea.

“It’s an excellent idea,” Erwin replied blithely, taking a sip of beer. “It’s been years since I had a chance to do any proper fieldwork.”

Mike sniffed and fiddled with the label on his bottle of beer, glancing up at the football game showing on the big screen at the far end of the busy campus bar. 

“Isn’t that what you’ve got grad students for?”

“Jesus Mike,” Erwin laughed. “Aren’t you the one who’s been on at me to get out of the lab for ages now?”

“Yeah I know, but the Outer Isles? I mean seriously? There’s nothing up there except bird shit and tourists and weird locals.”

“Hanji is up there.” Erwin pointed out. 

“Exactly! I rest my case. Besides, Hanji is based at the college on the main island. The field station is two islands over isn’t it? Seriously, Dok spent a couple of weeks up there a few years back and he just about went bat shit.”

“Well that’s Nile for you. He likes his home comforts.”

Erwin had been careful to keep the tightness out of his tone, but Mike looked up sharply.

“Are you sure this isn’t about, well, you know…” he tailed off.

“About what Mike?” 

“About Marie.”

“Marie? Why would Marie have anything to do with this?” Erwin asked with unconvincing surprise.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because she ran off and married your so-called friend, who was supposed to be the best man at _your wedding_ , six months after you split up?”

“Don’t be ridiculous…” Erwin started, but Mike cut him off. 

“Erwin, we’ve barely seen you for the last year. All you do is work and go to the gym. Work – gym. That’s it. We virtually have to drag you out of the house these days.”

“That’s not true.” Erwin protested weakly. 

Mike snorted, pulled his phone out of his pocket, opened his messages, and handed it to Erwin. Erwin scrolled through the messages, text after text from him apologizing that he couldn’t hang out, couldn’t come to the bar, the cinema, the game, because he was working on an algorithm, running a simulation, finishing a paper. Excuse after excuse after excuse.

“I’m sorry Mike, I’ve just been busy…” 

“Too busy to meet your friends once in a blue moon?” 

That stung and the fact that Mike was right was just salt in the wound. 

“It’s important work,” Erwin replied, a little more defensively than he’d intended. 

“I know Erwin, we all know how committed you are to saving the world, it’s just that ever since Marie…”

“This has nothing to do with Marie,” Erwin snapped. “Anyway, it was my decision to end the relationship, remember?”

“Yeah I know,” Mike replied, shaking his head, “but still, that shit’s gotta hurt.”

It had hurt. It had hurt more than Erwin could have believed possible. And what hurt the most was that he knew he had been right. He had loved Marie, there was no question of that, but he also knew, had known for years in fact, that he couldn’t give her the life she wanted, with the nice house and the nice car and the nice kids. The very thought of such an existence was anathema to Erwin, like being trapped for life behind impenetrable walls. It wasn’t fair to Marie, to promise what he couldn’t give, so Erwin had done the decent thing and ended the relationship. Marie had been devastated of course, so Erwin could hardly blame her when she sought solace and a shoulder to cry on from one of their friends. And when his former fiancé got together with his oldest friend, Erwin had been genuinely pleased, he’d even toasted them at their wedding six months later. If he had felt the loneliness seeping into his bones when he had returned home from the marriage celebrations to his empty apartment, he silenced his doubts by telling himself that he had done the right thing, the honest thing, the only thing that was fair to Marie. 

In order to distract himself from the isolation and heartache, Erwin had focused all his energies on his research. It wasn’t difficult, as an environmental scientist researching marine pollution, there was urgent work to be done and Erwin had thrown himself into that work like a man possessed. Erwin’s forte was data analysis; designing algorithms and simulations to predict the severity and extent of pollution based on data and samples returned to the lab from around the world. His research did not normally involve fieldwork and sampling, and it certainly did not normally involve spending six months of the year at the university’s field station on a remote island in the North Atlantic monitoring microplastics in the littoral and marine environment. But when Erwin had secured funding for this particular study, he had decided to undertake the fieldwork himself rather than sending a postgraduate student as he would normally have done. It would be a change, and change was what he desperately needed. 

Despite Mike’s reservations, it had seemed like the perfect opportunity, but as the ferry pitched and wallowed in the choppy firth, Erwin was seriously beginning to doubt the wisdom of his decision. The journey had started optimistically; Erwin had driven out of the city on a clear bright morning in early summer. Heading north, he soon left the suburbs behind, driving through rich farmland, until the fields gave way to forestry plantations, which petered out into rough moorland. And then he was climbing up into the highlands over high barren moors and through deep glens overshadowed by dark mountains where patches of snow still glittered in high corries. It was late afternoon when Erwin reached the impossibly picturesque fishing port on the west coast of the mainland where he would catch the ferry to the Outer Isles. 

The first hour of the crossing had been breathtaking, as the ferry sailed down the long sea loch flanked on either side by hills that turned purple and mauve in the gloaming, dotted here and there by tiny white-washed houses that clustered along the shores of the loch. Erwin made his way up to the top deck of the ferry, where he joined groups of tourists with their expensive walking gear and fancy binoculars, and solemn locals smoking stoically in the lee of the ship’s funnel. Breathing in the fresh sea air, tainted by the unmistakable tang of diesel from the ship’s engines, Erwin watched the hills slip by as the white wake of the ship fanned out behind them, stretching back towards the mainland, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was waking from a long slumber. 

It was only once the ferry sailed out of the mouth of the sea loch and into the open Firth that the wind picked up and the boat started to pitch and roll, sending cold spray flying across the bows. Erwin had hastily retreated to the lounge on the lower deck to endure the purgatory of the crossing, while trying not to loose the contents of his stomach. They were two hours in when a commotion roused Erwin from his misery. Passengers were peering out the windows on the starboard side of the ship, pointing and chattering excitedly. 

“Look!” a small red haired child gasped, tugging at their father’s hand. “Dolphins!” 

With a supreme effort of will Erwin got to his feet and staggered over to the starboard windows. Over the heads of the small crowd of passengers he could see sleek dark shapes coursing through the water. Every so often one of them would breach the surface to leap over the bow wave of the boat accompanied by oohs! and ahhs! from the onlookers. By the time the school of dolphins peeled away from the ship, the Outer Isles were in sight and Erwin had just about forgotten his seasickness. The sea was much calmer in the lee of the long island archipelago and Erwin went back up on deck to watch the islands approaching. It was well after ten in the evening but in these northern latitudes dusk had yet to fall and the islands were bathed in a soft translucent light. Portrona, the main port of the Outer Isles nestled in a broad deep water harbour, colourful buildings clustered around the head of the bay, looking for all the world like a pile of children’s toys scattered on the shore line. Across the bay, a tall castle stood on the hill top, a Victorian folly built by a long dead opium baron, one of the islands’ many colourful and often profligate owners. Within the harbour, a small fishing fleet lay at anchor, beyond which a fancy marina provided berths for a flock of graceful white yachts. Erwin watched enchanted as the islands drew closer, the lights of Portrona town glittering off the dark waters of the quay, where the round heads of harbour seals bobbed, watching the ship pass with curious observant eyes. He was so captivated by the scene that he had to drag himself away when the ship’s tannoy announced that drivers should return to their vehicles to disembark. 

As Erwin drove off the car deck and up the ramp onto the slipway, the first thing to catch his eye was his old friend and colleague Hanji, waving manically from the quayside. A marine biologist, among many other things, Hanji worked at the university’s island campus, based in the local college on Main Isle. 

“Erwin!” They yelled excitedly, bounding over as Erwin pulled up in the ferry terminal car park and climbed out of his car. “I can’t believe you’re here!” They squealed, seizing him in a bone-crunching hug. “How was the journey? Was the crossing okay? Jeez you’re a bit pale. Nothing a spot of sea air won’t fix eh?!” 

“Hello Hanji,” Erwin said, extricating himself from his friend’s embrace, “I’m fine, good. Crossing was a little rough, but I survived.” 

“You do look a little green around the gills.” Hanji peered at him nodding. “Come on let’s get you home and fed. Think you can eat anything? I left Moblit at home making dinner, he was out in the boat earlier and caught some fresh mackerel. You’re staying with us tonight then I’ll take you over to Ronsay and Wester Rona tomorrow. I’m in the long-wheelbase Landie parked over the road there, I’ll drive ahead and you can follow, it’s not far, just out of town and along the coast a bit. Okay? Okay. Let’s go.” 

Erwin smiled and nodded, too tired from the long journey to even attempt to get a word in edgewise. 

By the time he was sitting back in Hanji’s comfortable, if chaotic, kitchen a couple of hours later, nursing a second large whisky and with a belly full of fresh mackerel, cooked to perfection by Moblit, Hanji’s lab assistant, life partner and responsible adult, Erwin was feeling considerably more relaxed. Hanji had a large Ordinance Survey map spread out on the kitchen table and was pointing out various landmarks around the islands. 

“So, this is Portrona, and we’re just here,” they pointed to a spot on the east side of Main Isle. “We’ll get the ferry to Ronsay over on the other side of the island at Westernish. It’s just a short crossing, twenty minutes if even that. Then Outer Rona, your lovely home for the next six months is just, up here.” Erwin had to lean over the table and squint at the map to see the precise spot Hanji was pointing to. 

“It’s…very small.” 

“Tiny,” Hanji agreed. “Just five miles across. You can walk the whole island in a morning. It’s a tidal island so you get to it over a causeway that can only be crossed twice a day. Obviously. I wouldn’t recommend trying to drive over in anything less than a four by four or a tractor. Norman the Postman gets really pissed off when he has to get his Fergusson out to tow dumb tourists who get stuck half way across with the tide coming in. There’s a small car park at the Ronsay side of the causeway, you can leave your car there, I’ll take you over in the Landrover with your gear and stuff. The field station is on the west side of the island near the beach. It’s a lovely spot, though a little exposed. You’ll be fine though. God I wouldn’t mind a couple of months peace and quiet on Outer Rona myself. Hope you like your own company though, because once the tide comes in, it’ll just be you and the seals. 

“Seals?” Erwin asked curiously.

“Yes,” Moblit explained, “there’s a seal colony on the skerries just to the north of the island. That’s where the island gets its name from actually. _Rón_ is the local word for seal; Outer Rona, Ronsay, Portrona, they’re all named for the seals.”

“Huh,” Erwin said, taking a sip of his whisky, “who knew seals were so popular?” 

“Oh yes,” Moblit continued. “There are all sorts of folk tales and legends associated with seals in the islands. Some of them are fascinating.”

“I’m sure we’ve got a book of local folk lore lying around here somewhere,” Hanji said. “I’ll look it out and you can take it over to the island with you. Actually, the Rona skerries used to be home to the biggest seal colony in the Outer Isles, but it’s declined to almost nothing over the last decade. There’s still a small colony there but nothing like previous numbers.” 

“Actually there’s really good fishing off the rocks up there too,” Moblit added. “You can get cuddies and saithe, sea trout if you’re lucky. I think there’s a couple of rods at the field station, I can lend you some tackle if you want to try your hand. Morning and early evening is the best time to go out. You might even get to hear the seals singing then.”

“Singing?” Erwin asked, but the word was swallowed by a huge yawn. “Sorry guys, that’s really rude of me.” 

“Don’t worry,” Hanji reassured him with a smile, “it’s the sea air, it affects people like that. Knocks you out until you get used to it. Don’t be surprised if you sleep like the dead for the first week or so. The locals say it’s the ozone but I’d love to know what actually causes it and whether it’s a measurable effect. I suspect it’s actually due to a combination of factors including….” 

“Hans,” Moblit cut in, “I think we should probably let Erwin get to bed, he’s had a long journey.” 

“Ah yes, sorry, come on, I’ll show you to your room.” 

Erwin knocked back the last off his whisky and, pleasantly warmed by the peaty spirit and the convivial company, followed Hanji down the short corridor to the small guest room at the end of the house. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow, his dreams filled with boats and seals and islands and, somewhere in the distance, the soft ceaseless sound of the sea.


	2. Outer Isles

Erwin's first day in the Outer Isles dawned grey and overcast and by the time he and Hanji set off to catch the ferry at Westernish, the rain was coming down in sheets and the island was blanketed in a heavy pall of thick cloud that seemed to leach all the colour from the world. Erwin’s genial optimism of the night before was considerably dampened as they arrived at the jetty to catch the ferry over to Ronsay. Despite being just a couple of miles off shore, the island was barely visible, little more than a dark smudge against the restless grey of the sea. 

The Ronsay ferry had space for only six cars on an open cars deck, plus a dozen or so foot passengers and, on Hanji’s recommendation, they both stayed in their respective vehicles for the duration of the short crossing. Erwin sat in his car listening to the monotonous throb of the engines and watching the rain coursing down his windscreen with sinking spirits. 

From the jetty, it was a short drive across bleak sodden moorland to reach the island’s main village Bailleron. Nondescript houses flanked a single long street down which a bedraggled blackface sheep strolled disconsolately, otherwise the village appeared to be quite deserted. Pulling up outside what appeared to be the only shop and post office in the village, Hanji leapt out of the Landrover, pulled a waterproof over their head, and gestured towards the shop.

“Come on Erwin,” they called, “I’ll introduce you to Mags and Norrie.”

Wrestling a jacket out of one of his bags in the back, Erwin followed Hanji into the shop where he found them chatting to a middle-aged woman with steel grey hair and a bright smile. 

“This is Erwin,” Hanji said. “He’ll be based at the field station over on Outer Rona for the next six months. Erwin, Mags McArthur. If you need anything she’ll be able to sort you out.” 

“Pleased to meet you,” the woman smiled. “Is this your first time in the islands?” 

“Yes,” Erwin replied, “I’m not sure what I’m letting myself in for.”

“Och you’ll be fine. Hang on and I’ll call Norman, he’s out the back. 

She disappeared for a moment and Erwin could hear her calling. 

“ _Tormod! Trobhad a-steach. Greas ort!_ ”

A rather dour looking man of indeterminate age, wearing paint smeared overalls, appeared from the back of the shop. 

“This is Hanji’s friend Erwin,” Mags explained. “He’ll be staying at the field station over the summer.” 

The man eyed Erwin impassively. “Aye,” he said slowly, “lovely weather you’ve got for it.” 

Erwin stared at the man bewildered as Hangi burst out laughing and Mags elbowed her husband.

“ _Och bi sàmhach!_ You just ignore him Erwin dear, he’s full of nonsense.”

“We’d better get going if we’re going to catch the causeway.” Hanji said.

“Of course, of course, _siuthad ma hath_. Just let us know if you need anything Erwin. We’re back and forth walking the dogs, so I’m sure we’ll be seeing you. Just a minute, can’t send you off empty handed.” Mags disappeared out the back of the shop and reappeared a few minutes later carrying two Tupperware boxes. “Fresh eggs and some scones just out of the oven. That’ll keep you going till you’re all settled in.”

“Thank you,” Erwin said, genuinely touched, “that’s very kind.”

It was still raining when they left the village behind, the heavy grey clouds had descended even further, until the rocky hills that rose up on the east side of the island were barely visible. By the time they reached the Outer Rona causeway at the northern tip of Ronsay, the small island was completely obscured by the weather. Erwin looked doubtfully at the causeway, a narrow strip of concrete, flanked on either side by rough boulders, that stretched away from the shore and disappeared into the mist. 

“Mike said it was the arse end of nowhere, but it looks like we’re driving off the edge of the world.” 

“I know!” Hanji chirped. “It’s really atmospheric isn’t it? Come on, chuck the rest of your stuff into the Landrover, we need to get going, the tide’s already coming in.”

Erwin did as he was told but decided that atmospheric was not the word he would have used. 

As Hanji crawled out onto the causeway, driving at snails pace in the poor visibility, the world dissolved around them. Everything melted away until they were enveloped entirely in grey; the soft mist and the leaden sky, the sea lapping at the edge of the causeway, the road stretching out into nothingness. Erwin had the uncanny sensation that they were lost to the world, suspended outside of time and space. 

But then they were driving off the end of the causeway with a bump and following a rough track that curved around the coast. As they climbed up and over the hill in the center of the island, the mist started to clear and then the field station was there in front of them, sitting on a headland overlooking a long white beach. The field station had been converted from an old whitewashed croft house that had been renovated to provide living quarters, while the byres and out houses providing storage facilities for tools and equipment. 

“There you go Erwin,” Hanji grinned as they pulled up outside the house, “your new home! Whatcha think? It’s a bit basic, but not bad huh? Sorry about the shit weather, not the best welcome.” 

Though Erwin was feeling increasingly doubtful about the entire endeavour he had to admit that, even in the foul weather, it was indeed not bad. The house was sheltered from the worst of the weather under the lee of the hill, a small burn, swollen with peat brown water, tumbled past the door and down onto the beach, which ran in a graceful arc around the curve of the bay. The bright sand shone silver in the rain as the grey waves broke onto the shore in a froth of white foam. It was better than not bad, it was stunning. 

Seemingly oblivious to the breathtaking beauty of the scenery, Hanji was already unpacking kit and supplies, carrying bags and boxes into the house, chattering as they went. 

“Right, logistics…sorry I can’t hang around to show you the ropes but I need to get back across the causeway before the tide comes in. There’s a wind turbine up on the hill that provides power for the house, a petrol generator in the shed out the back if you need it, and a few Calor gas cylinders if you get really stuck. Are you listening Erwin? Stop gawping at the beach and come and give me a hand.” 

“Sorry,” Erwin apologised, tearing himself away from the view, and hauling a box of sample bags out of the back of the Landrover.

“You can get basic supplies over at the community store in Bailleron,” Hanji continued, “Mags will set up an account for you, but it’s worth coming over to Main Isle every couple of weeks to stock up. The network’s a bit patchy out here I’m afraid, but you can use the internet at the school on Ronsay, they’ve got broadband over there if you need to upload data or images or anything. There should be a short wave radio knocking about here somewhere, and if all else fails, or you need help for any reason, there’s a flare gun by the back door. Someone on Ronsay will see it. You’ll be fine though. Better than fine. Sorry I can’t hang about, Moblit will kill me if I miss the ferry. Give me a call if you need anything, I’ll be back over at the end of the week to see how you’re getting on. Enjoy!”

And with that, they were gone, leaving Erwin standing alone in the kitchen surrounded by piles of bags and boxes. Though he was desperate to get out and explore the island, he diligently set about unpacking his gear and supplies. The house was big for a single occupant and had clearly been renovated with teams of field workers in mind. The ground floor was almost entirely taken up by a large kitchen with a range at one end, a fireplace at the other and a huge wooden table that could easily seat a dozen people. Off the kitchen was a shower room and a study lined with bookshelves, the walls covered in maps, ferry timetables, tidal charts, old photographs, and views of the island. Upstairs Erwin found another bathroom, two dormitory style bedrooms with bunkbeds, and a small double bedroom overlooking the beach, which he claimed as his own. It was early evening by the time he finished unpacking and sat down on the sagging sofa in the kitchen for a cup of coffee before tackling dinner. 

He woke with a start sometime later, groggy, disoriented, with a crick in his neck, and unable to tell how long he had slept. The dim grey light outside the house gave no indication, but the half finished cup of coffee was stone cold by his side. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Erwin was astonished to discover that he has slept for several hours and it was almost ten o’clock. Ditching the idea of dinner, he got up, turned out the light, stumbled up the stairs and fell straight into bed, dead to the world as Hanji had predicted. 

The next day Erwin woke to a storm; the soft incessant rain and heavy mist of the previous day had been blown away by a ferocious northerly gale that drove squalls of freezing rain across the island and battered against the windows of the house. Erwin waited until mid afternoon to see if the weather would abate but when it showed no signs of easing off, he pulled on his waterproofs and walked down to the beach. He made his way down to the water’s edge where enormous breakers were crashing wildly onto the sand, sending white horses thundering up the beach. Despite pulling his hood tightly round his face he could barely see a thing from the driving rain and the sand whipped up into his eyes by the howling wind, so he quickly retreated back to the sanctuary of the house. 

The storm continued for three days during which Erwin found himself effectively housebound. He was immensely grateful that he had enough food to see him through the first week, so he contented himself with arranging the house to his liking and planning his field work, studying maps of the island to identify the most useful points to collect samples. He quickly discovered that Hanji had been wildly optimistic about the network being “patchy”, threadbare to non-existent would have been more accurate. Fighting his way to the top of the hill behind the house, he found one spot where he could just about get a phone signal if he faced the mainland, but the wind and rain were so ferocious that it was impossible to hear anything when he tried to call Mike to let him know he had arrived more or less safely. The internet connection was as bad if not worse; web pages loaded infuriatingly slowly, images failed to load at all, streaming was out of the question, and even checking e-mail was an exercise in profound patience. By the second day Erwin had given up on the internet all together and instead spent his evenings exploring the field station’s eclectic library, which included everything from local history, scientific texts, archaeological monographs, spotters guides and trashy novels. However it was the book of folk lore loaned by Hanji and Moblit that caught his attention and he spent his first nights on the island captivated and terrified by stories of the dreaded _each-uisge_ , the water horse that carried off unsuspecting lasses from the summer shielings on the moor; the _bean sidhe_ whose cry heralded sudden death; old _cailleachs_ with the power of the evil eye who could curse women barren, drive the fish from the nets, kill calves in the womb and sour the milk with a glance; _Mac an t-Sronaich_ the robber and outlaw who murdered unwary travellers on the moor; _na fir ghorma_ , the blue men of the firth who could raise storms at will, to drown unsuspecting sailors, and of course the song of the selkies and seal maidens, who could transform at will from seal to human. 

“I am a man upon the land  
I am a selkie in the sea  
And when I’m far fae ony land  
My hame is on the Sule Skerry.”

At night, Erwin fell into bed with the words of the selkies’ song running through his head, accompanied by the music of the burn rushing past the door and the distant sound of the waves crashing on the shore. 

On the fourth morning after his arrival, Erwin opened his eyes to a new world. The first thing he noticed was the brilliance of the light shining in through the curtains, the second was the quiet. He could still hear the burn gushing and tumbling past the house but the rain had stopped and the thunder of the waves was muted to a soft murmur. Clambering out of bed to open the curtains Erwin was greeted with a view so breathtaking that he had to blink and rub the sleep from his eyes, before he was able to convince himself that he wasn’t seeing things. Everything was blue and silver as far as the eye could see. The sky was a pale rain-washed egg shell blending into a deep indigo on the horizon where it met the distant sea, closer in shore the water was a brilliant turquoise blue of a shade Erwin would never have believed existed in nature. The bright early morning sun was sparkling on the crests of the waves and the sand was glittering like silver. Without waiting to get dressed Erwin ran down stairs and out of the house wearing only his pyjamas. The morning was fresh and cold but the island felt rain washed and clean, like a new beginning. 

Erwin wasted no time setting to work. After a quick breakfast he collected his maps and survey gear and set off to reconnoiter the island and plot the points where he would collect his samples over the next six months. Although the island was small, Hanji hadn’t been quite correct to say he could walk it in a morning, as parts were rocky and overgrown and high sea cliffs made much of the east coast of the island largely inaccessible. By late afternoon Erwin was satisfied that he had surveyed most of the accessible coast line barring the headland at the far northern tip of the island. Though the daylight would last until well into the evening, the light was already starting to take on that strange soft translucency that Erwin now realized was so characteristic of the islands. As he made his way up over the headland a strange noise stopped him in his tracks. It was a low keening sound, musical and mournful all at once. Pausing to listen, Erwin realized the sound was coming from the shore, though it was unlike any sea bird he had yet to encounter. Following the melancholy song, Erwin climbed up over the ridge onto the headland where he found himself on a high cliff on top of which was a large smooth rock jutted out over the sea and there, lying just off shore, the seal colony of the Rona Skerries. Several large grey seals were lying on the rocks below, calling to each other as the waves foamed and churned around them. Captivated by the strange song, Erwin edged out cautiously onto the rock and sat down among the waving sea-pinks with his legs dangling over the edge. As he listened entranced, one of the seals slid off the rocks into the sea. Moments later a sleek dark head emerged from the waves directly offshore from Erwin’s perch. After bobbing in the water for a moment the seal disappeared only to reemerge closer to the shore. Though he was desperate to pull out his camera to photograph the seal, Erwin held perfectly still as the creature drew closer and closer, until it was barely a stone’s throw away from the shore. It was so close now that Erwin could see its features clearly. The seal gazed up at him with dark intelligent eyes, its slitted nostrils flaring as though trying to catch his scent. It was patently obvious to Erwin that he was as much an object of curiosity to the seal, as the seal was to him. They regarded each other with solemn interest for several moments before the animal turned around in the water, its body disappearing under the waves in a graceful arc. With the distinct sensation that he had been dismissed, Erwin got up and made his way back to the field station. 

That night as he drifted off to sleep, mingling with the sound of the burn and the waves on the shore, Erwin was sure he could hear the faint mournful song of the seals.


	3. Revelation

Erwin soon fell into the rhythm of island life. Every day he would go out and collect samples of sand and grit from both high and low water mark at dozens of points around the coast. Back at the field station he would wash and sieve the samples to extract any microplastics present, weighing, bagging and recording the results, before packing them up to take them back to the lab for further analysis to identify the nature and source of the pollutants. Though the island appeared to be pristine and unspoiled, Erwin was dismayed to discover minuscule fragments of plastics among the sand at almost every sample point around the island. It made for a meaty research project, but the prognosis for the environment was grim. 

A couple of times a week Erwin would interrupt his routine to make his way over to Ronsay to check his e-mail, send his data back to the university, and stock up with groceries and news at the community store. Once a fortnight he drove over to Main Isle to restock his larder at the cash and carry in Portrona, usually stopping at Hanji and Moblit’s for the night where he enjoy Hanji’s manic company and Moblit’s excellent cooking. 

Against expectations, Erwin found that life on the island was a far from solitary existence. The Ronsay locals frequently came over to walk their dogs and to fish, not always legally. Some of the local boys crept over in their boats during the grey hours of dusk to set illegal salmon nets off the shore, warning Erwin to be on the look out for the camouflaged fishery protection vessels that cruised the coast, slipping in and out of the banks of sea fog unobserved. The locals were reserved but friendly, and hospitable to a fault. They mostly left Erwin to his own devices though it wasn’t uncommon for him to find gifts of eggs, pots of jam, or fresh baking left at the door of the field station. Once he was surprised to find a whole salmon, Erwin had no doubt it was poached, but he certainly wasn’t going to turn his nose up at it. 

Tourists and walkers were also regular visitors, increasing in number as the summer wore on. Elegant yachts would sometimes drop anchor in the bay, their well-heeled crews coming ashore in rigid inflatables to picnic on the beach. A group of archaeologists came over for a week in late June to dig a trial trench in a feature on the far side of the island, which turned out to be the remains of an Iron Age dun. They camped in the meadow beside the house and Erwin let them use the facilities at the field station. On their last night on the island they built a bonfire out of driftwood on the shore and Erwin sat with them around the fire drinking cheap beer and good whisky until late into the night, watched as always by the ever present seals. 

Though Erwin enjoyed the company, he quickly grew to love the solitude of the island once the tide came in over the causeway and he was left alone with just the birds and the seals. It was almost as though the island breathed a sigh of relief, with nothing left to break the silence, but the call of the curlew and the lapwing on the hill, the piping of the oyster catchers on the shore and the melancholy song of the seals on the skerries. 

With no internet or tv to distract him when he wasn’t working, Erwin spent his time walking the island until he knew every inch of it like the back of his hand. He spent hours watching the birds on the shore, the little sand pipers that scattered across the beach like leaves driven by the wind, the dapper razorbills and guillemots in their tuxedos and tails, the prehistoric cormorants drying their outstretched wings on the rocks. On stormy days he sat on the beach, huddled in his waterproofs, watching the gannets wheeling and diving, straight and lethal as arrows, plunging into the sea with barely a splash, to emerge seconds later gulping down fish. And sometimes, in the high blue days of summer, he would lie in the warm grass of the meadow by the house listening to the hum of the bees in the clover and the rippling song of the skylarks rising and falling in the soft air. 

But there was nothing that Erwin loved more than watching the seals, barely a day passed but he would visit the high cliff overlooking the skerries. The seals seemed to regard him as something of a curiosity to be tolerated and largely ignored, though one in particular, a small grey creature with an inky line running down its back, seemed more curious than the others and often swam close in to the shore when Erwin settled down on the rock. Sometimes the seal simply watched him, other times it would twist and summersault in the waves, almost as if it was trying to coax Erwin into the water. Erwin had often heard of seals being likened to dogs, but there was a peculiarly feline quality to his aquatic companion. Sometimes he would whistle and the seal would slide off the rocks and swim towards the shore, other times it would simply regard him with arch disdain before disappearing silently beneath the waves. Occasionally, when the seals were singing in the still evenings, Erwin would join in their chorus, singing snatches of songs he remembered from his childhood. It was a foolish thing to do, but there was no one to hear him, no one but the seals, and they didn’t seem to mind. 

Often when he was out and about Erwin would take his small Moleskine sketchbook with him. He’d packed the sketchbook on something of a whim, as it was years since he’d picked up a pencil, however he soon found that, despite his rusty art skills, there was something profoundly satisfying in attempting to capture the contours of the hill, the profile of the coastline, the sleek curves of the seals basking on the rocks. 

Unexpectedly, Erwin was surprised to discover that he was quite happy with his own company. Although he had lived alone since splitting up with Marie, he had filled the space she had left in his life with distractions; with work, with the gym, with papers to be written, articles to be read, funding to be applied for, with excuse after excuse after excuse. He had never allowed himself just to _be_. Here on the island, once the tide came in, there were no distractions, no excuses, and he had no choice but to be, and to face up to the man he found beneath the layers of obfuscation. Initially he was relatively content with this growing self-knowledge, but as the weeks wore on and late spring passed into early summer, he found that he could no longer ignore the fact that at the core of himself something was missing. He was profoundly alone. Though it was the solitude of the island that brought about this revelation, Erwin realized that, despite the presence of a close group of friends in his life, he had always been alone. He had even been alone all the years he had lived with Marie. He could have shared his life with Marie, but that would never have been enough. Erwin wanted someone to share his dreams with, someone who could understand what drove him on, someone to help him save the world. It was an absurd thought, but there it was. 

The profound revelation made Erwin restless, and he found himself drawn more and more to the sea cliff overlooking the skerries, where he would sit for hours every evening watching the seals. It was early July, and the new moon had brought high spring tides to the island when, towards late afternoon, Erwin made his way up to his vantage point above the skerries and was surprised to find he was not alone. A man was lying stretched out on the rock in the warm sun with his eyes closed and his arms crossed behind his head. A man who, at first glance, appeared to be quite naked. 

“Oh!” Erwin said, unable to hide his surprise, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

“ _Cha robh_ ,” the man said, sitting up. As he moved Erwin realized that although his torso was naked, he was in fact wearing dark grey trousers, of some sleek, shining fabric, that sat low on his hips and ended just below his knees. But what really caught Erwin’s attention and stopped him in his tracks was the line of fine dark hair that ran down his spine and disappeared into his breeches just above the curve of his very shapely ass. 

Erwin blinked, heat rising in his face, at this unexpected and inappropriate observation, and he hurriedly lifted his gaze to the stranger’s scowling face. His hair was straight and dark and fell forward over sea grey eyes that were currently regarding him with something akin to curiosity and disdain.

“I didn’t expect to find anyone else here.” Erwin said, rather annoyed by the imperious stranger occupying his perch. 

The man continued staring, narrow brows creasing into a deep frown.

“ _De tha thu a’deanamh an seo?_ ” he asked.

“I’m sorry what?” 

“What are you doing here?” The man repeated.

“I’m working at the field station.” Erwin gestured over his shoulder in the direction of the house. “For the summer.” 

“No, _an seo_ , what are you doing _here_?” The man repeated slowly, as if he was talking to a child or an idiot, neither of which Erwin considered himself to be.

“Oh, I just came for a walk, I sometimes sit here and watch the seals.” 

“Why?” 

“Why?” Erwin was starting to get distinctly irked by the rude man. “Because I like to watch them. What are you doing here?” 

“I like to watch too,” the man replied, his lips curving up into an expression that looked distinctly like a smirk. “What’s your name?” 

“Erwin. Erwin Smith.” 

The man stood up and held out one hand. Erwin was surprised to discover how small he was, a whole head shorter than him, though his shoulders were broad and he was powerfully built.

“Levi,” he said. 

Erwin took his small hand and was shocked as much by the extraordinary strength of his grip as by his finger nails which appeared to be almost black in colour. 

“Pleased to meet you Levi,” he said, recovering himself with some effort.

Releasing his hand, Levi promptly sat down again and stretched himself out on the warm rock at Erwin’s feet with his head propped up on one hand. Erwin was reminded oddly of the seals, basking on the rocks off shore. 

“Do you live locally?” Erwin asked, feeling distinctly awkward about having a conversation with a semi-naked stranger who happened to be lying at his feet. He wondered for a moment if he should sit down beside him but somehow that seemed rather forward and he was still feeling more than a little put out. 

“Locally…” the man repeated, “yes, locally, you could say that.” 

His accent was certainly similar to the islanders, but with a soft rolling cadence that was utterly foreign and intimately familiar at the same time. Erwin found himself thinking that he could listen to that voice forever, and then immediately found himself wondering why he should have thought such a strange thing. 

“You’d better watch the tide then,” Erwin said, “it’s coming in fast.”

“I know.” 

“If you miss the causeway, you’ll have to swim.”

“I can swim,” the man answered matter of factly, before glancing up at Erwin with that peculiar smirk again, “can you?”

“Can I swim?” Erwin was caught off guard by the unexpected question. “Of course I can swim.” 

“Then maybe one day you’ll swim with me Erwin Smith.” 

There was something distinctly suggestive about the comment, and Erwin could feel heat flushing his cheeks again, though he couldn’t say why. Before he could gather his thoughts, the man stretched out onto his back again, crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. 

“See you around Erwin Smith,” he said.

Erwin stood and stared at the man, before turning away and trudging back to the field station, annoyed and confused.

The following morning dawned blustery and overcast, the mild weather of the previous day giving way to squally showers that blew in across the sea on a cold wind. Erwin went about his business as usual, collecting samples at the designated points around the island, but he was oddly distracted, his mind flitting back to the strange man he had met on the headland. He already knew that some odd people washed up on these islands; people who were trying to get away from it all, people who were seeking something, people who were lost, people who were trying to reconnect with something, Erwin supposed he was one of those people himself, but he had never met anyone quite like Levi, the man on the cliff top. 

It was cold and grey when Erwin made his way up to the northern tip of the island that evening, so he was more than a little surprised to find the headland occupied once again by the peculiar interloper, who, despite the inclement weather, was still wearing nothing but his short grey trousers. 

“Hello,” Erwin said as he climbed up onto the rock. “You’re back?”

“You’re assuming I went away,” the man said without turning around to look at Erwin. He was sitting at the very edge of the rocky promontory, looking down at the sea that broke wildly against the rocks that jutted from the base of the cliff like jagged broken teeth. 

“Are you camping on the island?” Erwin asked. It wasn’t unheard of for people to camp for a few of nights on the island, there were some sheltered spots among the sand dunes that fringed the beach on the west side of the island, though Erwin had walked along shore that morning and had not seen any tents. 

“Camping…” Levi repeated, turning around towards Erwin and shrugging his shoulders expressively. 

Erwin had been trying not to stare at the man’s naked chest, but it wasn’t easy. He was shockingly muscular despite his short stature, the kind of lithe muscle that came from long hard work out of doors, but his skin was pale and unweathered, almost translucent, and Erwin could see the faint blue line of veins that ran like rivulets down his muscular forearms. The paleness of his skin accentuated the line of dark hair that ran down his stomach into the low waist of his trousers, the same colour as the soft dark hair on his spine. Erwin swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. 

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked. 

Levi looked down at his chest, then up at Erwin and frowned. 

“No. Should I be?”

“I know I would be on a day like this.” 

The man continued frowning, he looked oddly apprehensive, as if he had been caught doing something wrong. 

“Would you like my jacket? Here, I’ve got a fleece under my waterproof you can have if you like.” Erwin was already unzipping his jacket. “It’ll be a little big but it’s better than nothing.” He pulled his fleece off and handed it to the man. 

Levi took the garment from him and sniffed it cautiously before pulling it on over his head. He was so small that it fell almost to his knees, his hands disappearing inside the sleeves. He pulled the collar up around his face and sniffed again. 

“It smells like you.” 

“It is clean,” Erwin assured him. “I washed is just a few days ago, but I have been wearing it today. You can keep it if you like, I have several more back at the house.” 

“ _Tapadh leat_ ,” Levi said quietly, burrowing into the fabric and sitting down on the ledge again.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Erwin said and gestured towards the flat rock. Levi shrugged, but he shuffled along to make space for him. 

Erwin sat down with his legs dangling over the edge of the rock. Although he had left a respectable distance between himself and Levi he realized to his surprise that the man clearly had not been lying about not feeling the cold. Despite the small distance between them, Erwin could feel a faint warmth radiating from him. It was an odd sensation and it made him want to lean in closer. 

They sat together in silence for a short while, looking out over the grey sea, before Levi spoke.

“You like watching the seals.” 

“Yes,” Erwin replied, though it wasn’t really a question. “They’re so…I don’t know…in their element.”

“She’s pregnant.” 

“Sorry what?” 

“Her,” Levi pointed towards the skerries and Erwin followed his gaze to a large grey seal lying on the rocks. “She’ll give birth to a pup before the winter comes. She lost her last two.”

“Oh, that’s sad.” Erwin said, unsure what else to say.

“Those three are last years brats.” Levi said, pointing to a group of smaller seals in the water. “And that one’s from the year before.” 

“You’re very knowledgeable,” Erwin said, more than a little curiously. Levi just frowned. 

Levi, it transpired, was indeed very knowledgeable, and not just about the seals. As they sat together on the blustery headland he named, both in English and in his own tongue, every island and rock as far as the eye could see, every bird that flew across the horizon, the fish that lived unseen in the kelp forests below the waves, even the tiny plants that clung to the cliff face. By the time the light finally started to fade, Erwin’s head was spinning with words and names and the soft lilting cadence of Levi’s voice. 

“Thank you,” he said, as he got to his feet, brushing flecks of lichen from his trousers. “I’ve learned a lot, I appreciate you taking the time. The tide should be out by now if you need to get back across the causeway.” 

Levi just shrugged and began pulling the fleece off over his head. 

“No, no, just keep that.” 

Levi’s head re-emerged from the neck of the garment frowning uncertainly.

“Honestly, it’s fine, please.” Erwin smiled, before turning to leave, more than a little reluctantly. “Maybe I’ll see you around again, Levi.” 

But Levi had already turned his gaze back to the sea. 

The next morning when Erwin got up, he found his fleece folded neatly on the doorstep, and in each pocket, a smooth white pebble.


	4. Dinner

The following day Erwin made his monthly trip to Portrona, to restock his supplies and catch up with Hanji and Moblit. As he sat in his car aboard the Ronsay ferry for the short crossing to Main Isle, he found that his mind wandering back to the strange man who had washed up on Outer Rona like flotsam. Judging from his fluency in the islands’ native language, to say nothing of his obvious knowledge of the islands themselves, Levi was clearly local, however he seemed to have been cut from quite a different cloth from the islanders Erwin had previously met. It almost made him wonder if there was something in the folk tale he had read in Hanji’s book about ships from the scattered remnant of the Armada being driven north by storm and gale to founder on the coasts of the Outer Isles, the few survivors becoming the forefathers of islanders who tended to be shorter and darker that was common in these parts. It was an outlandish tale and likely had little basis in history, but Levi’s curious looks and colouring certainly set him apart from the tall, fair islanders who owed much of their appearance to Scandinavian settlers from centuries past. Erwin decided he should ask Mags next time he stopped at the shop on Ronsay. Mags appeared to know everyone from one end of the archipelago to the other and someone as distinctive as Levi would surely be well known on an island as small as Ronsay. There was a good chance that Hanji would know of him too. Hanji made it their business to know anyone remotely interesting or unusual and Levi was most certainly both. It would be the simplest thing in the world to ask Hanji and Moblit about Levi, and yet somehow, as the pleasant evening around his friend’s dinner table wore on, Erwin never found an opportunity to ask. Though Levi was continually in his thoughts, the question always seemed to slip away from him. 

Much as Erwin enjoyed Hanji and Moblit’s company, he found he was unusually impatient to get back to the island. However, a quirk of the ferry time table meant it was later than usual when he got back to Outer Rona and by the time he had unpacked his groceries is was already well into the evening when Erwin made his way up to the headland. Despite the lateness of the hour he was relieved to see the familiar small figure silhouetted on the rock overlooking the sea. The sun was just beginning to set, and the sky was ablaze with brilliant hues of purple, scarlet and magenta, that fanned out over the sea, gilding the crest of the waves with shimmering gold.

As Erwin climbed up onto the promontory he saw that Levi was wearing an old faded t-shirt. The fabric was worn and threadbare and the logo weathered away to illegibility, but the way the thin cloth clung to his body only seemed to emphasise the taught muscle of his shoulders. 

“Hello,” Erwin said. “I like your shirt.” Though in truth it looked like something that had been left lying forgotten on the shore. 

Levi looked up at him and smiled smugly. It was the first time Erwin had seen him smile and it was more than a little disconcerting, as his canine teeth were curiously sharp, and the expression made him look alarmingly feral. Rather cautiously, Erwin sat down on the rock beside him, keeping a careful distance between them. There was something distinctly unnerving about the man, but Erwin couldn’t deny that he was drawn to Levi by more than curiosity.

“You could have kept the jacket you know,” Erwin said.

“I couldn’t do that!” Levi replied, clearly appalled, though Erwin was at a loss to understand why. 

“Honestly, it’s all right, it’s really no big deal.” 

Levi scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, the thin t-shirt stretching over his arms. 

“Have you been here long?” Erwin asked after an awkward pause. 

Levi shrugged noncommittally, but Erwin had the feeling he was distinctly put out. 

“I was away yesterday,” he explained. Levi snorted as though that was patently obvious. “I had to go over to Main Isle, to Portrona, and I stayed the night with my friends Hanji and Moblit, they live just outside the town.” 

“Portrona’s a shit hole.” Levi snapped, wrinkling his small nose in disgust. “The harbour’s filthy. It’s fucking disgusting.” 

“Well,” Erwin said, trying to hide his amusement at Levi’s petulance. “Just as well I won’t have to go back for another few weeks.”

“Good.” Levi said decisively. “Why were you there anyway?”

“I needed to buy food, there’s only so much I can get on Ronsay.” 

“You need food?” 

“Well, not now I don’t, I’ve got enough to see me through the next few weeks.” 

Levi glanced up at him with an oddly thoughtful frown, as though he was storing the information away for future use. 

“Who is Hanjianmoblit?”

It was late when Erwin returned to the house that night, and the sky was that distinctive shade of deep velvet blue that only exists in northern latitudes in high summer. They had sat talking, or rather Levi listened as Erwin talked about Hanji and Moblit, about how they met, about his other friends, about his life at home, as the light slowly faded, and the setting sun painted the sea with gold. And though Erwin was chilled to the bone when he finally collapsed into bed, somehow he felt a little lighter than he had for longer than he could remember.

After collecting and processing his samples the following day, Erwin decided to try his hand at fishing. He had made several attempts at fishing since his arrival, but none had been particularly successful, however Moblit had given him some new spinners that he swore were ideal for fishing off the rocks. “Even you’re bound to catch something with these Erwin!” he’d laughed. Packing up his rod and gear, and remembering Moblit’s advice that there was good fishing up by the skerries, Erwin made his way along the shore until he was almost right beneath the cliff overlooking the seal colony. From the shore line the cliff looked impossible high and sheer and as Erwin looked up at the rock jutting out over the edge high above, he wondered how he ever found the nerve to sit up there without being overcome by vertigo. 

Finding a large flat rock that was wide enough for him to stand on without loosing his balance, Erwin set about assembling his rod and reel, tying the small silver spinner onto the end of the line. It took him a few casts to get the feel of the spinner but on his third cast he felt a tug on the line and reeled in a small silver fish. Tossing the fish into the bucket he had optimistically brought with him in case he caught anything, Erwin heard a familiar voice calling from high above. 

“What are you doing?”

Looking up, Erwin saw Levi’s dark head peering down at him from the cliff top above. 

“I’m fishing.” Erwin called back. “What does it look like?”

“Doesn’t look like fishing to me!” 

Erwin couldn’t see the wicked smirk on Levi’s face, he could hear it unmistakably in his voice. 

“Look!” Erwin said, picking the small fish out of the bucket and holding it up so Levi could see it. With a flick of its tail, the fish wriggled out of Erwin’s hand and before he could catch it, flopped back into the sea. High above his head, Levi barked out a laugh. 

“Fish aren’t stupid dumbass.” 

Shaking his head, Erwin picked up his rod and continued casting, but his luck seemed to have deserted him and every unsuccessful cast was met by a sarcastic comment from on high. Levi appeared to be enjoying the pantomime immensely but there was only so much ridicule Erwin could take before his patience wore thin. 

“Come down here then if you think you can do better!” He yelled after one particularly scathing comment. 

“All right,” Levi called back, “I will!” 

And then to Erwin’s utter horror he launched himself off the high ledge and arced through the air, plunging into the sea below, where the waves crashed and foamed against the dark rocks at the bottom of the cliff. 

“Levi!” Erwin yelled in horror, dropping his rod with a clatter and scrambling over the rocks towards the base of the cliff, sure he would find Levi’s broken body tossed among the rocks. It was impossible that anyone could dive from such a height and miss the jagged rocks that jutted out from the base of the cliff like cruel teeth. 

Erwin scanned the waves frantically, but there was nothing to be seen, no body rose to the surface to be dashed against the cliff face by the pounding waves. Paralysed by fear, Erwin was at a loss as to what to do. To dive in after Levi would be suicide. He could call the coast guard, but though his phone was in his pocket, he would have to climb to the top of the hill over a mile away to get a signal. There was the distress flare at the field station, if he ran all the way back, perhaps someone on Ronsay would see it and send a boat. 

Just as Erwin was about to turn around and scramble back over the rocks towards the field station something caught his eye. Far out to sea, further out than seemed humanly possible, a small dot appeared, a sleek dark head, a pale arm rising out of the water, waving at him. 

Erwin sank to his knees on the wet rock, heart beating a wild tattoo in his chest. He was still trying to steady himself when Levi’s head emerged the sea in front of the rock several minutes later. He was grinning broadly, seemly oblivious to the waves breaking and crashing around him. 

“Levi….Oh my God Levi,” Erwin gasped. “Are you all right? You almost gave me a heart attack. What the hell were you thinking?” 

“Dinner!” Levi replied and triumphantly tossed an enormous blue lobster on to the rock where Erwin was kneeling.

“Jesus Christ!” Erwin swore, scrambling to his feet and almost loosing his footing on the slippery rock as the huge lobster snapped and writhed at his feet. 

“What’s the matter?” Levi asked, face falling into a frown. “You don’t like lobster? 

“What? No…yes. Yes I like lobster, but you could have broken your neck on the rocks, I thought you…”

“Tch,” Levi snorted dismissively as he pulled himself out of the sea and hopped up onto the rock, shaking the water from his hair and pushing it back off his face. He’d disposed of the faded t-shirt but was still wearing the grey breeches, which clung around his thighs like a second skin. As he grinned up at Erwin, droplets of seawater shining on his translucent skin and in his dark hair, Erwin felt the air shimmer around him, as if in that moment the world had become a little more fluid. 

“Come on,” Levi said, picking up the lobster by the tail, and holding it far enough away to avoid it’s snapping claws. “I’m hungry. We could eat here, but you prefer to cook it right?”

“Umm…what?” Erwin replied, still shaken and bewildered. “Uh yes. Yes of course.” 

“Good.” Levi grinned, baring his sharp teeth, “let’s go then.” And he was off along the shore, leaping from rock to rock with such sure footed agility that Erwin struggled to keep up. 

When they reached the field station Levi stopped, hesitating just before the threshold. 

“Come in,” Erwin said, dumping his fishing tackle and empty bucket by the door and stepping out of his boots. “You can put our friend in the sink.”

Cautiously, Levi stepped into the room, looking around curiously, before placing the snapping lobster in the sink. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been in one of these.”

“One of what?” Erwin asked confused, but Levi just gestured vaguely around the room. 

Standing there in the kitchen, bare foot and wearing only his close fitting grey breeches, his hair still wet from the sea, Levi looked oddly out of his element, and more naked than he ever did out of doors. Not for the first time, Erwin had to remind himself not to stare, not to let his gaze linger on the smooth planes of Levi’s chest, on the dark trail of hair that lead down to… 

“Okay,” Erwin said, clearing his throat. “I guess we should do something with that beast. I’m not very sure what I’m doing here, I’ve never cooked lobster before, I think you’re supposed to put them into the pot alive?

“Alive?” Levi gaped at him in horror. “That’s barbaric! Fuck you’re doing that.” 

“I know, that’s one of the reasons I’ve never done this. I supposed we could kill it first? But I’m not very sure how…” 

Levi rolled his eyes and, turning his back on Erwin, leaned over the sink, there was a sharp crack that made Erwin wince and when Levi held the huge creature up again it was limp in his hand. 

“Okay,” he said, with that feral grin that made Erwin’s chest tighten. “It’s all yours, I’m going to get something.” And without another word of explanation he disappeared out the door, leaving Erwin eyeing the huge crustacean with bewilderment. 

The lobster was simmering in a pot of salted water when Levi returned shortly afterwards and presented Erwin with a handful of stringy greenery. 

“Samphire,” he said, by way of explanation. 

“Oh!” Erwin replied, “I’ve eaten that once before, fried in butter with garlic I think, it’s delicious.” 

Levi shrugged “Do what you want with it. It’s good any way.” Picking a piece of the samphire from Erwin’s hands he caught it between his teeth, sucking the soft green flesh away as he pulled the stalk slowly from his mouth. Erwin coughed and turned away to attend to the cooking pot, adjusting himself surreptitiously as he did so, hoping that his guest hadn’t noticed the heart rising in face and further south.

They ate the lobster with new potatoes and the samphire, the salty tang of the succulent complementing the soft flesh of the lobster perfectly. Erwin pressed a pair of old pliers into service to break open the lobster’s claw, trying not to stare as Levi cracked his open with his sharp teeth, prying the hard shell apart with his fingers with little apparent effort. 

“We can leave the dishes,” Erwin said as he pushed his empty plate away, “I’ll do them in the morning.” 

Levi wrinkled his nose in disgust. “That’s filthy. I’ll do them now.” 

And before Erwin could argue he was clearing and washing plates and pots with a diligence that put Erwin’s lack lustre attempts at housekeeping to shame. 

Once the kitchen was cleaned to within an inch of its life, Erwin opened a bottle of the local island malt and they sat at the kitchen table drinking the peaty antiseptic spirit talking about everything and nothing. Levi proved to be particularly adept at avoiding direct questions and, though he was happy to talk about the islands, particularly, their marine environment and wildlife, which he appeared to have extensive knowledge of, he revealed nothing of his own life or circumstances. However when he learned that Erwin had travelled widely, both as a student and in the course of his research, he asked endless questions about places he had visited, things he had seen. 

By the time Erwin was recounting a gap year backpacking trip round the Greek Islands, it was well after midnight and his head was growing fuzzy from the whisky. Levi had matched him drink for drink but the sprit appeared to have had no discernible effect on him other than flushing his pale cheeks with a blush of colour. 

“I’m sorry Levi,” Erwin yawned, “I should probably get some sleep if I’m going to get any work done tomorrow.” 

“Shit,” Levi said, getting to his feet abruptly. “I’ll go.” 

_Where?_ Erwin wanted to ask. _Where do you go Levi? Where do you live? Where do you sleep?_ But instead the word that came out of his mouth was “No!” uttered with more urgency than he intended. “I mean…well, it’s late, I don’t know if the causeway’s passable, you’re welcome to stay if you want.”

Levi hesitated, worrying his bottom lip between those sharp teeth. 

“There are two spare room upstairs,” Erwin continued, “but the beds aren’t made up, so you might be more comfortable down here on the couch.” 

Levi glanced doubtfully at the couch and back towards the door. 

“Honestly, it’s no problem.”

“Okay, sure,” Levi shrugged. 

“Great!” Erwin smiled, trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in his stomach. “I’ll get you some blankets from upstairs.” 

It was a matter of minutes to make up a bed on the couch, Levi watching with odd curiosity as Erwin laid out the blankets. 

“Well,” he said, “I’ll leave you to it.” Pausing by the door he added, “Oh and Levi, thank you for dinner. I enjoyed the lobster, and the company.” 

“Yeah whatever,” Levi muttered, cheeks flaring scarlet. 

Hours later, Erwin lay awake in the darkness, heart beating too fast in his chest as he tried not to think of the man downstairs. Tried not to think of how poorly the word fitted him, how inadequately. Like the old t-shirt that he’d pulled on to meet some misplaced expectation of decency and propriety, but which only served to emphasise his otherness. And Erwin tried not to think of the way his heart had almost failed when he saw Levi plunge from the cliff top, the petrifying fear as he’d scanned the waves for his broken body, the overwhelming relief that had washed over him when that small sleek head emerged from the waves. Erwin tried not to think of these things. He failed. 

The next morning when Erwin woke and stumbled down to the kitchen, Levi was gone. The kitchen was pristine and empty and in the sink was a bucket of small silver fish beside which lay a note written in a beautiful but oddly old fashioned cursive script. 

_Breakfast._


	5. The Turning of the Tide

As the weeks passed, Erwin and Levi fell into a routine of sorts. Barely a month after first arriving on Outer Rona, Erwin found that he had become attuned to the rhythm of the island, the phases of the moon, and the turning of the tide. He no longer needed to look at the tidal charts and keep an eye on his watch to know when the causeway would be passable, a quick glance at the shore told him the state of the tide and how long it would take to turn. So it didn’t take him long to realize that Levi’s presence and absence fluctuated with the tide. When the causeway was passable, and the solitude of the island was interrupted by dog walkers and tourists, Levi would disappear, vanishing without trace. It was only later, once the day-trippers had left and the tide had come in over the causeway, cutting the island off again, that he would reappear, frequently bearing “dinner”. One day it might be a plump speckled sea trout, the next a bucket of silver herrings, a creel full of langoustines, or sweet fresh clams. Some days he would turn up at the door of the field station unannounced, other days Erwin would walk up to the headland to find him shaking the sea out of his hair, salt water jeweling his pale skin, or basking on the rock overlooking the skerries, regardless of the weather. Often, they sat on the headland and talked for hours, other times they strolled along the white sand beach that fringed the west coast of the island, or scrambled over the rocky coastline on the east, broken and barren as the dark side of the moon. Erwin already knew the island like the back of his hand, but Levi showed him Outer Rona’s secret places. The mossy river bank where the old grey heron fished, spearing black eels that twisted in knots around her razor sharp beak, the burn where the otters washed the sea salt from their thick fur, the sheer cliffs where snow-white kittiwakes nested, shrieking and chattering among drifts of pink sea thrift. Most times, Levi would disappear at nightfall, though occasionally he would deign to spend the night at the field station, sleeping on the old battered couch in the kitchen while Erwin lay awake upstairs, tossing and turning, trying and failing to keep his thoughts from straying to storm grey eyes and skin as translucent as water. One night in late summer, they lay on their backs among the silver sand dunes as the Northern Lights danced in the sky above them, twisting and shimmering in swathes and curtains of green and pink and purple. Breathtaking as it was, the aurora borealis paled in comparison to the wonder that lay by Erwin’s side. 

If Levi’s rhythm was governed by the tides, Erwin’s was governed by Levi. He adapted his daily routine so he could undertake his sampling and analysis work while the tide was out, making sure he had completed all his tasks by the time it came back in again, so he could spend the rest of the day with Levi. His short trips to Ronsay became less and less frequent, he put off his trips to Main Isle and, during the increasingly rare occasions that he left the island, he found his thoughts straying irrevocably back to Levi and the easy familiarity that had grown between them. There was an intimacy there that Erwin had been starved of, an intuitive connection that he realised he had never experienced before, not even with Marie. And though he knew there were a thousand question that he should ask Levi, he never did, because, deep in his heart, Erwin knew that the answers would change nothing. 

The islands had been blessed with an uncommonly mild summer that year, though a few summer storms blew in across the Atlantic, the days stretched warm and golden throughout July and on into August. Barely a day passed without one of the locals commenting on the unusually benign weather; some attributing it to global warning, others to divine intervention. 

It was a high blue day in early August when Levi announced they should go for a swim. They’d been walking along beach as the tide came in over the warm white sand, when Levi suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to Erwin. 

“Swim with me,” he said, gazing up at Erwin with a peculiar intensity. 

“Now?” Erwin replied. “I haven’t got my trunks with me. I think I’ve got a pair back at the field station, I could run and get them.” 

Levi inclined his head and looked pointedly at the combat shorts Erwin was wearing. 

“Well I suppose I could swim in these,” Erwin said. “You don’t seem to be too bothered about swimming in your trousers.” 

Levi snorted a short laugh, his mouth twisting into that captivating smirk. 

“Come on then!” he said, and without further warning ran into the surf and dived head first into the waves. 

Erwin was still untying his shoes and pulling off his t-shirt, when Levi emerged from the sea, much further out than Erwin expected. 

“Get a fucking move on,” he called, his voice rising above the crash and hiss of the waves on the sand. 

Erwin shook is head, and ran down into the sea to join him. Though the pale northern sun was warm on Erwin’s back, the water was cold. Much, much colder than he expected and when a wave splashed up over his stomach, he couldn't help yelping in shock. 

“Jesus Christ!” 

Levi’s laughter reached him over the sound of the waves. Seconds later he appeared beside him, shaking the water from his hair like a dog, scattering freezing drops over Erwin’s shoulders and chest making him hiss and shiver. 

“What’s the matter?” he grinned.

“It’s fucking freezing!” Erwin replied. “I think my balls have dropped off.” 

“Well that’s a damn shame,” Levi drawled, raising one thin brow suggestively. “Come on, you won’t feel it once you’re in,” and with that, he dived into the waves again. 

Taking a deep breath, Erwin plunged in after him, the shock of the freezing water stunning him for a moment and knocking the air from his lungs. But Levi was right, once he was in the sea, with Levi darting around him in the water, he barely felt the cold.

Although Levi was sure-footed and agile on land, Erwin had often noted that he walked with a peculiar rolling gait, almost like a sailor who hadn’t quite found his land legs. It often made Erwin wonder if Levi had spent at least some of his life at sea. It certainly wouldn’t be unusual for an islander, many of the young men found employment on fishing boats and trawlers, or signed up to join the navy or merchant marine. But for all his awkwardness on land, in the sea, Levi was a different creature entirely, moving with preternatural grace and agility, entirely in his element and impervious to the cold. There was an infectious uncontained joy in his movements, as he scythed through the water with little apparent effort, goading Erwin into futile attempts to chase and catch him. Teasing and tagging him, tugging at his shorts or ankle, before darting away out of reach. Erwin was a strong swimmer but he was hopelessly outpaced and out manoeuvred by Levi who, in addition to his speed and agility, could swim on under water, long after Erwin’s lungs were bursting and he had to come to the surface gasping and spluttering. 

Swimming with Levi was exhilarating, intoxicating; there was a freedom and buoyancy in moving through the water with him that Erwin had never experienced before. And when they dived beneath the surface, Levi pulling him down, deeper than Erwin would have thought possible, he was mesmerised by the shifting light that filtered down through the clear water, shimmering on the sandy sea bed in a kaleidoscope of turquoise, green and blue. Together they swam far out beyond the rocky point at the end of the beach where the white sand gave way to thick beds of kelp where Levi dived to retrieve spiny black sea urchins, colourful golden starfish and delicate translucent moon jellyfish. But eventually, the cold began seeping into Erwin’s bones, his muscles started to cramp and shiver and, motioning towards the shore, he turned to swim back towards the beach. 

“Where are you going old man?” Levi teased. “Do you need to take a shit or something?” 

“Give me a minute,” Erwin gasped, chest heaving, as he reached the shallows and staggered back up the beach. 

Suddenly Levi froze in the water, eyes widening in horror.

“Erwin your lips are blue!”

“I’m not surprised,” Erwin stuttered. Now he was out of the water he realized he was numb with the cold and shivering uncontrollably. “I’m freezing!”

“Are you dying? Erwin!” Levi stumbled through the waves to his side, almost tripping over in his haste. 

“What?” Erwin replied, taken aback. “No, of course I’m not dying. I’m just cold.”

But Levi was stricken. 

“I’ve seen them,” he gasped. “Out there, men with blue mouths and skin as white as sea foam. I tried, but I couldn’t wake them, the crabs had taken their eyes.” 

“What? Where? What are you talking about? Calm down Levi.” 

“Out there,” Levi gestured wildly towards the sea. “A boat…I was too late to do anything, I tried…” 

“A ship wreck? You saw a ship wreck? When? Where?” 

But Levi just shook his head desperately. 

“Long time ago. I was too late. I don’t want to see you like that. With blue lips and dead eyes.” 

He gazed up at Erwin imploringly, seawater streaming from his hair and sliding down his pale cheeks. 

“You won’t Levi, I'm fine honestly, I promise. I’m just a bit cold. Here, look.” 

Erwin took Levi’s hand and placed it against his chest. His skin was puckered from the cold, and he was still shivering, but his heart was beating strong and fast from the shock of Levi’s distress. 

“See?” He said. “I’m still alive. Just cold.” 

Levi pressed his hand flat against Erwin’s chest, and frowned, narrow brows pinching together in concern. 

“Too cold,” he muttered, shaking his head. And then without warning he reached up, seized Erwin’s face in both hands, pulled him down and kissed him full on the mouth. Erwin froze in shock, and for the space of a breath everything stopped; the sea breeze died away, the waves stilled on the shore and the mewling gulls fell silent. Levi’s lips were warm and salt against his own and, when he exhaled, Erwin felt a strange liquid warmth suffusing his chest, expanding his lungs, spreading down through his limbs. 

It was over in a moment. Levi released him and stepped back, leaving Erwin with the taste of sea on his lips and that peculiar warmth tingling in his veins.

“Come on,” Levi said, “that won’t last in this form, you need to get back to the house.” 

Seizing Erwin’s hand he started dragging him back along the beach towards the field station. Erwin followed, stumbling after him on unsteady legs. 

Levi was right, by the time they reached the field station, the strange heat had started to subside and Erwin was shivering again. Once they were inside the kitchen, Levi looked around rather helplessly. 

“Clothes. You need dry clothes, or blankets, or something.” 

“Levi,” Erwin said, “I’m fine honestly. Stop worrying. I’ll go and have a shower to heat up and I’ve got plenty of warm clothes upstairs.” 

The words were barely out of his mouth before Levi was shoving him unceremoniously towards the shower room that was just off the kitchen, turning on the water and prodding him towards the cubicle. 

“Get in there,” he growled, “and don’t come out until you’re warm.” And then he left, slamming the door behind him with more force than was necessary. 

Erwin stood and stared at the door in bewilderment, until he realised he was still shivering. Shaking his head, he peeled off his wet shorts and stepped into the shower. The hot water stung his numb skin like needles but it didn’t take long for him to warm up. Closing his eyes and letting the water slide over his skin, Erwin could still feel the press of Levi’s lips against his own, the incredible warmth he had breathed into his body, the taste of the sea in his mouth. 

Ten minutes later, Erwin emerged from the shower, skin glowing a healthy pink from the hot water. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he made his way into the kitchen, which he found empty. 

“Levi?” he called.

“Up here.” Levi’s muffled voice drifted down from the floor above. 

Padding upstairs on bare feet, Erwin pushed open his bedroom door, and found Levi rummaging in the wardrobe. Clothes spilled from the shelves in their habitual jumble, while a small pile of neatly folded t-shirts sat incongruously on the corner of the bed. 

“I came to get you clothes,” Levi said, hauling crumpled garments from the shelves, “but everything’s a fucking mess.” 

“Ah yes, sorry, it’s a bit of a disaster…” 

“How the fuck do you find anything in here?” 

Pulling a woollen jersey from a pile, Levi turned around, his eyes widening when he saw Erwin, who was suddenly and painfully aware that he was wearing nothing but his bath towel. 

“Sorry,” he said, feeling the heat rising in his face, though he wasn’t entirely sure whether he was apologising for the state of his wardrobe or his state of undress. 

“Are you all right now?” Levi asked, brows pinching together in concern. Dropping the jersey he stepped forwards towards Erwin. “Are you better?” 

“Yes, I’m fine, there’s no need to worry. See?” Erwin spread his arms wide, inviting Levi to see for himself. 

Still frowning, Levi cautiously reached out and placed his fingertips lightly on Erwin’s chest. When he felt the warmth there, he exhaled a long breath, the deep furrow between in his brows easing. 

“Do you believe me now?” Erwin said, closing his hand gently around Levi’s wrist, holding him in place. Levi nodded, and swallowed audibly, throat bobbing. “And you?” Erwin continued, stepping closer, closing the gap between them. “Are you all right? You seemed…distraught.” 

Levi frowned and looked away, dark hair falling forward over his eyes. 

“Men are so fragile,” he muttered. 

“And you’re not?”

“Not fragile?” Levi scoffed, looking up at him.

“No,” Erwin said carefully, “not a man.” 

It wasn’t a question, but it hung in the air between them, demanding a response. 

Erwin could feel the tension thrumming through Levi, through the tendon and bone of his slender wrist, as he stool stock still before him like a cornered wild thing, poised to fight or flee. And then he sighed, all the tension ebbing out of him, his wrist going slack and limp in Erwin’s grip.

“No. Not a man.” 

“What then?” Erwin asked, caressing the inside of his wrist with small reassuring strokes. 

Levi shook his head. 

“Don’t ask me that.” 

“Levi, nothing you could say would make any difference to me. I promise you.” 

Levi scoffed and looked up, anger and sorrow clouding his grey eyes. 

“Men make promises as easily as they die.”

“I give you my word Levi, you can trust me.” 

Levi gazed up at him, full of hope and despair, looking for all the world as though he wanted desperately to believe him. 

“Levi…” Erwin started, but he had no more words, instead, he reached out and brushed his thumb along Levi’s high cheekbone, and then he bent his head and slowly brought his lips to the spot. His skin was smooth and warm and Erwin could taste salt on his tongue. 

“Fuck,” Levi muttered. 

And then he was surging up to meet him, pulling Erwin down into a desperate kiss that burned with longing. Erwin felt that incredible heat suffusing his body again, expanding his lungs, blurring his vision, and then Levi was turning him, pushing him back towards the bed with the kind of strength that surely could not be contained in a body so small.

Erwin’s legs hit the edge of the bed and he sat down heavily, toppling the neat pile of shirts onto the floor. His head was still swimming from the heat of Levi’s kiss so it took him a moment to realize that he was kneeling on the floor in front of him, strong hands gripping his thighs, dark fingernails incongruous against his flushed skin. Levi brought his mouth to the inside of Erwin’s thigh, and kissed the tender skin there, sending a bolt of electricity straight down Erwin’s spine. 

“Jesus Christ Levi…” he gasped.

Levi responded with a low inarticulate growl but his touch was gentle and his mouth soft as he worked his way up Erwin’s thigh, tugging the towel away when it impeded his progress. Erwin was already half hard, his cock lying heavy against his thigh and his breath caught in his throat when Levi sat back on his heels and gazed up at him. 

“You’re golden,” he said simply, and leaning forward, he placed his head in Erwin’s lap, dark hair scattering among fair, warm breath fanning over Erwin’s skin, causing him to swell and stiffen against Levi’s smooth cheek. They remained perfectly still for several moments, Erwin holding his breath, mindful of those strong sharp teeth. But when Levi lifted his head, and brought his mouth to Erwin’s cock, his touch was shockingly gentle. Erwin groaned and fell back on the bed as Levi lapped at him, his tongue soft and smooth as water. He fisted his hands in the sheets as the sensation grew, rolling over him in waves, relentless as the tide, building to the point of no return. 

“Levi…” he gasped. 

But then the soft warmth of Levi’s mouth left him, and he was scrambling up onto the bed, the weight of his body dipping the mattress as he settled between Erwin’s thighs. His pale cheeks were flushed, grey eyes alight with sparks of silver, like moonlight reflected on the water. 

Erwin brought his hands up to Levi’s shoulders and ran them down his back, feeling taught muscle shifting under smooth skin, the fine line of dark hair that marked his spine was soft as silk under Erwin’s fingers. It was only when he reached the tight curve of Levi’s ass and felt sleek fur there that Erwin realized he was still wearing his grey breeches. 

“Do these come off?” he asked, lifting one brow in query.

“Of course they come off,” Levi snorted, but he stiffened uncomfortably when Erwin tugged at the cord that fastened the garment around his slim hips. 

“Let me, yeah?”

“Of course,” Erwin said, pulling his hands away and propping himself up on his elbows as Levi stepped off the bed. He stood worrying his lip for a moment, looking oddly self-conscious, before shaking his head and muttering something under his breath that Erwin couldn’t catch, then he pulled the cord open. Though the breeches hugged every curve of his hips, they slid easily from his thighs and fell to the floor, pooling around his feet, looking for all the world like a shed skin. 

Though Erwin had grown used to seeing Levi half-naked, but for his peculiar grey trousers, he was quite unprepared to see him fully unclothed. For all his strength and spirit, without his breeches, there was an odd vulnerability to him that went far beyond modesty or self-consciousness, and somehow, instinctively, Erwin knew that he was witnessing an act of great trust. But for all his vulnerability, Levi’s eyes were alight with fire, leaving Erwin in no doubt as to his power and his intentions. His slender cock was already standing stiff against his belly, dark at the base but flushed a deep rosy pink at the tip, which glistened with opaque beads of moisture, a thick viscous strand of which dripped towards the floor. Erwin’s breath caught in his throat, his own cock throbbing painfully in response.

“I haven’t got any…” he started, suddenly realising that he had no lube in the house. Chance sexual encounters had been the very last thing on his mind when he had packed to come to the island what seemed like a lifetime ago. 

“Don’t need it,” Levi replied, lips quirking up in that half smile. “If you’ll let me….” 

“Fuck,” Erwin groaned, falling back onto the bed. 

“That a yes then?” Levi climbed onto the bed, nudging Erwin’s legs apart with his knee. 

“Yes, fuck, yes it’s a yes…” Erwin gasped, reaching up to pull him down, desperate for that intoxicating contact. 

“Impatient.”

Levi snorted a short laugh and kissed him hard, and once again Erwin felt that incredible heat and buoyancy spreading through him as Levi pushed his tongue into his mouth, his breath into his lungs. Erwin emerged for the kiss gasping and exhilarated, heart hammering on his chest, fluid warmth coursed through him, flooding his extremities with heat, unmooring him from his skin.

A strong hand gripped beneath his thigh, bending one leg up at the knee, then slick fingers were pressing into him, making him gasp and shudder. He barely had a chance to catch his breath before Levi was shifting between his thighs, his lips hot against his cheek. 

“Breath with me Erwin,” he muttered against his mouth and as Erwin exhaled, he felt every muscle in his body let go, melting, relaxing, as Levi slid inside him in a single fluid movement that drove a long low cry from deep in his throat. 

Levi moved like water, thrusting into him, lithe muscle rippling under Erwin’s hands as the clung desperately to Levi’s shoulders, his back, anywhere he could reach. Heat and want coursed through him, flooding his senses, every nerve and sinew alight with desire. 

“Levi…” he gasped, “Levi…Levi…Levi…” over and over, ceaseless as the sound of the waves on shore. 

Levi responded, quickening his pace, driving into him, filling him, completing him, and all the while whispering against his cheek, words Erwin could not understand but which resonated in his soul like a familiar song. 

The heat and pressure kept building, mounting, until it crashed over them like a breaking wave, obliterating everything as Levi came with a cry, seizing Erwin’s cock in his hand even as he pulsed and shuddered against him, drawing him to the point of orgasm with swift sure strokes as Erwin arched up beneath him, spattering his chest with warm cum. 

Afterwards, they lay together, drifting on the tide of their release, Levi’s dark head pillowed on Erwin’s shoulder. Erwin ran his fingers lightly over the soft black hair that marked Levi’s spine and listened quietly to his low lilting voice as he told the story of his people. Of their home in the far unknown depths of the Northern oceans, where they had once been warriors of the sea king, guardians of the sea and all its creatures, until fatal curiosity had tempted them up into the realms of men where they were met with fear and distrust, and sometimes love, until their number dwindled through the centuries from persecution and pollution, until few remained and they were remembered only as fanciful creatures in the tales of old wives and half-remembered songs. Levi was one of the last of his people in the Outer Isles, though he knew there were a few others, some in the sheltered mulls and sounds of the Inner Isles, others in the deep cold waters of the far north. 

“I read about selkies in a book of folklore,” Erwin began cautiously, when Levi fell silent.

“Folklore,” Levi snorted, making his contempt for folklore quite clear. “Selkie, yeah, that’s one of the names we’ve been given. _Maighdeannan-ròn_ they call us here.” Levi rolled his eyes. “Do I look like a fucking maiden to you?”

“No,” Erwin laughed, “you most certainly do not. What name do you call yourselves?”

Levi shook his head. 

“Maybe one day I can tell you that.” 

“And all those other seals out on the rocks?”

“They’re …. kin.”

“They’re just ordinary seals then? They’re not like you?”

Levi looked at him aghast.

“No animal is ever ordinary, especially not a seal, but no, they’re not like me.” 

“Those trousers you wear, I read something about selkies not being able to change back if they lost their skin, are they...?” 

“Holy shit you’re full of questions,” Levi snapped, jabbing Erwin hard in the ribs. “Knew I should have kept my damn mouth shut.” 

“I’m sorry,” Erwin said with all sincerity, “I didn’t mean to pry, I’m just curious.”

“Yeah,” Levi sighed, “that’s my skin, if…if I loose it, I can’t go back.” 

And suddenly Erwin understood Levi’s earlier hesitation, his vulnerability as he stood naked before him, the depths of trust that entailed, and Erwin knew he had received an incomparable gift.

They lay together quietly for a while before Erwin spoke again.

“Levi, that night…” Levi hummed against his chest, a soft exhalation of air. “Why did you come to the cliff top that first night? Was it just curiosity?”

Levi lay quiet for a moment, one finger tracing lazy patterns on Erwin’s chest

“When you first came to this island, you smelled lonely.”

“I smelled lonely?” Erwin peered down at the top of Levi’s sleek dark head. “I didn’t know loneliness had a smell.”

“Yeah, once you smell it you don’t forget it.”

“And how do you know that?” Erwin asked softly. 

“I’ve known a few sailors over the years.” Levi shrugged. “Sailors are always lonely.” 

“And now?”

Levi lifted his head, sharp chin propped on Erwin’s chest, his eyes narrowed in that peculiar expression Erwin had come to recognise as a smile. 

“Now you don’t smell lonely any more.”

It was not long after, that Levi started to take an interest in Erwin’s work. 

“What are you doing?” he demanded one day, as Erwin was cataloguing bags of samples in the out building at the field station. 

Levi listened carefully as Erwin outlined his research, growing increasingly agitated as he explained how and why he was collecting samples from around the island and showing him examples of the microplastics he had extracted. By the time Erwin was explaining how the plastics broke down and found their way into the food chain Levi was pacing the floor furiously. 

“That’s it! That’s fucking it! That’s the shit that’s killing us. It’s everywhere. It’s in the fish, in the birds, it’s fucking everywhere!” 

“I know,” Erwin agreed sadly. “It’s already having a massive impact on fish stocks and marine wild life, and if we don’t figure out how to stop this I have no doubt it will kill us eventually too.” 

“No,” Levi shouted, stamping his bare foot on the stone floor, “you don’t understand. It’s killing us now. Right now Erwin! Every year, fewer and fewer pups. We’re dying Erwin. We have to do something.”

“I know, Levi, I know.” Erwin repeated, deeply moved by his distress. Reaching out for the smaller man he pulled him into an embrace, Levi’s taught body shivered in his arms. “I’m trying to do something. That’s why I’m here. The more we understand about this…”

“Let me help,” Levi interrupted, glaring up at him, a fierce light burning in his grey eyes. “I can help. Let me help you.” 

Erwin gazed down at him for a moment before nodding. “All right Levi, let’s save the world together.” 

The last few weeks of the summer slipped away in a blur of activity. Levi still disappeared when the tide was out, returning later with samples to add to Erwin’s collection. Erwin worked furiously to analyse and record everything as precisely as possible, while the pile of neatly stacked sample boxes in the store room grew and grew. 

At night, when the tide was in and the island was theirs alone, they would fall into bed together, loosing themselves in each other, in the touch and press of muscle and skin, in the heat that grew steadily between them, and the bond that drew them ever closer together. 

“Whastime?” Erwin yawned, waking early one morning. Levi was sitting propped up in bed, carding his fingers through his hair. Rain was pattering softly against the window, and Erwin curled around Levi’s small body, burrowing into his warmth. 

“Shhhh,” Levi’s hand stilled for a moment and strong arms drew him close. “Go back to sleep, _mo ghaol_ , the tide hasn’t yet turned.” 

The last days of August had fled and the hill behind the headland was ablaze with purple heather, the bracken turning to bronze under the pale late autumn sun. A ragged skein of wild geese passed high overhead, setting out on their long journey south for the winter, as Erwin and Levi lay together on the rock overlooking the skerries. Levi was sitting up, leaning back against his hands, while Erwin lay on his back, head resting on Levi’s thigh, the sealskin of his breeches smooth and warm beneath his cheek. 

“What’s the matter?” Levi asked.

“Nothing,” Erwin replied, trying to ignore the suffocating weight that had settled in his chest. “Why do you ask?” 

“You’re sad,” Levi said simply. “It’s been settling into your bones for weeks now.” 

“I…” Erwin started, but his throat was too tight to speak.

“Erwin?” Levi looked down at him, the concern Erwin could hear in his voice, clouding his grey eyes. 

“I have to go Levi. At the end of this month.” 

“Why?” 

“Why? Because the fieldwork project is coming to and end. I have to go back to my job on the mainland, at the university.” _Back_ home he meant to say, but Erwin knew now it had never felt like home, not the way Outer Rona did. Not the way that Levi felt like home. 

“Then go.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Stay then.” 

“You make it sound so simple.” Erwin said, sitting up with a sigh. “I can’t stay here Levi, I can’t just take up residence in the field station permanently, it belongs to the university, other people will need to come and work here.” 

“Come with me then.” 

“With you? Where?” 

“Anywhere,” Levi shrugged. “We can go anywhere. Faroe, Ushant, anywhere. Take your pick.” 

“But how? How could I go with you?” Erwin frowned, not understanding. “I’d need a boat…or…or…” 

“You don’t need a boat. I can…” Levi paused, worrying at his lip with his sharp teeth. “You know I can change right?” 

Erwin nodded, at a loss as to what Levi was trying to say. 

“Well I can change you too.” 

“What, you mean you can change me into a seal?” Erwin gaped at him incredulously

“Well I’m not going to change you into a fucking walrus, am I dumbass?” Levi snorted. 

“But how? Surely that’s impossible?”

Levi just shrugged. “It’s in our gift. But only if you…”

“Yes.” Erwin cut him off. 

“Wait, hold on...” Levi started, eyes widening in surprise.

“Yes!” Erwin repeated, his spirits soaring. 

“Are you sure? Don’t you need to...” 

“Yes I’m sure, Levi, and no I don’t need to think about it. I’ve thought about nothing else but having to leave for the last fortnight. And I don’t want to go. I want to stay with you. Here, anywhere, it doesn’t matter.” 

“But your work, our work…”

“I’ll leave it to Hange. All the information is there. It’s all catalogued, recorded, they’ll know what to do with it. Once they get all that data they’ll be unstoppable.”

“Are you sure?” Levi peered at him intently. 

“Yes, Levi,” Erwin beamed at him. “I’m sure.”

“Bastard,” Levi muttered, fighting to keep the smile from his face. “You’ll be the most handsome seal from Rockall to Faroe.” 

The sun had already set as they stood together on the cliff top a fortnight later. The vivid reds and oranges that had gilded the waves and painted the sky so spectacularly an hour before had faded to a wash of muted pinks and mauves that dissolved into a restless wine dark sea. 

“Won’t we hit the rocks?” Erwin asked calmly, as he gazed down at the waves that crashed against the base of the cliff beneath them.

“No,” Levi replied, squeezing his hand, “we won’t hit the rocks.”

“How?” 

“Do you trust me Erwin?”

“Yes.” 

“Then we won’t hit the rocks.”

“How do we do this?” 

“You know how,” Levi replied, “you’ve felt it already, you just have to let go.”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Erwin nodded, “but yes, I have.” 

Levi reached up on his toes and pulled Erwin down into the kiss, and he felt once again that familiar heat spreading through his veins, shifting under his skin, tingling through every limb. 

“Ready?” Levi asked, breaking the kiss.

“Ready.” Erwin replied, as the world began to shimmer at the edges, the air growing more fluid around them.

Hand in hand, they stepped forward to the edge of the cliff, and Levi turned to him.

“In another life, I would have followed you anywhere Erwin Smith.” 

And then they jumped, the gulfs of air falling away beneath them, until the sea caught them in its cold embrace.


	6. Seven Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little different from previous chapters, and includes a content warning, so please check the tags.

“Mike!” Hanji called, making their way through the small crowd and seizing the tall man in a bone-crunching hug. 

Mike dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around them, and they stood, holding each other, as the tiny airport terminal emptied around them. When Hanji stepped back, their eyes were red rimmed behind smudged glasses. 

“You okay, Hans?” Mike asked, squeezing their shoulder gently. 

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Hanji replied, shrugging hopelessly. “Come on let’s get home, Moblit’s making dinner, and I need a drink. Have you got a bag to collect?”

“No, just this.” Mike picked up the duffel bag at his feet. 

“How was your journey?” Hanji asked as they made their way out to the Landrover, which was parked outside Main Isle’s tiny airport terminal. 

“Yeah fine. Well, as fine as cramming a dozen people into a flying sardine can and landing it on a fucking beach could be. I mean, what the fuck Hanji, haven’t these people ever heard of runways?” 

“I know,” Hanji laughed weakly, “it’s quite something isn’t it? Think this must be one of the few places in the world where the flight schedules are dictated by the tide.”

They drove along the coast for several miles, before Mike asked the question that was hanging between them. 

“So. No news then?” 

“No. No news.” Hanji replied, without taking their eyes off the road. 

“How long has it been now?” 

“Three weeks since he as reported missing, but it looks like he’d been gone for a couple of weeks before that. We don’t know for sure.”

Mike sniffed and shook his head. 

“If we hadn’t been away…” Hanji continued, grip tightening on the steering wheel, “maybe I could have raised the alarm sooner. Maybe we’d have been able to find him. We were away for almost a month. Moblit’s parents are getting on now, his mum had a fall and his dad isn’t really fit to look after her so we had to go over to Germany to help out and try to get them set up with longer term care.” 

“It’s not your fault Hanji, you know that,” Mike reassured them.

“I know,” Hanji sighed, “but I just feel so bad about it. Nobody even knew he was missing until Mags raised the alarm.” 

“Mags?” 

“She runs the shop on Outer Rona, she hadn’t seen him for a week or so and when she went over to the field station she found it empty. No sign of Erwin.” 

They drove on in silence for a while before Hanji spoke again. 

“Thanks for coming Mike. I really appreciate you being here.” 

“Hey,” Mike replied, turning towards them as much as his seat belt would allow. “It’s no problem. Erwin was...is my friend, and so are you and Moblit. It’s the least I can do.” 

Dinner was a subdued affair, despite the whisky Moblit cracked open almost as soon as they were through the door. By the time they’d finished eating they’d made a good dent in the bottle, but it did nothing to lift their spirits. 

“So, tell me again, what the police said?” Mike asked, once the plates were cleared away. 

“They’re going to record Erwin’s disappearance as suspected suicide.” Hanji replied.

Moblit sighed pointedly and shook his head. 

“That’s what they said,” Hanji continued. “Erwin’s mobile phone, all his bank cards, car keys, personal effects, were left at the field station. It’s hard to get mobile records for out there as the signal’s so patchy, but it looks like his phone hadn’t been used for up to a fortnight prior to Mags calling the police. Bank cards hadn’t been used either, although to be fair, the nearest bank is in Port Rona. It was his clothes though…” Hanji tailed off. 

“His clothes?” Mike looked up, whisky glass hovering half way to his lips.

“Yeah, they found Erwin’s clothes up on the edge of a cliff at the top of the island.” 

“Shit,” Mike put the glass down more forcefully than he intended. “Do you really think…”

“I don’t believe it,” Moblit interrupted. “Not for one minute, Erwin would never do a thing like that.” 

“Fuck, I knew it was a bad idea for him to come up here.” Mike scowled. “I warned him.”

“What do you mean a bad idea to come up here?” Moblit asked, a little sharply. 

“That kind of isolation isn’t good for a man. Especially a man like Erwin.” 

“What do you mean?” Moblit pressed, the spirits exacerbating his obvious distress.

“Erwin, well, he could get pretty down sometimes,” Mike replied. “I don’t think he ever really got over his father’s death when he was a kid, and then when he and Marie split up, he went through a bit of a rough patch.” 

“I still don’t believe it,” Moblit frowned, knocking back the amber liquid in his glass. 

“What Mike is saying,” Hanji cut in gently, “is that Erwin sometimes had depressive episodes. But Moblit’s right Mike, this is complete out of the blue, he seemed to be really happy here. The last time we saw him he looked great. Couldn't wait to get back to the island in fact. I think he really loved it over there.” 

“So you don’t think it’s suicide?” Mike asked. 

“No, definitely not.” Hanji replied. “He sent me an e-mail just before we went off to Germany, you know.” 

“What did he say? Did you tell the police?” 

“It didn’t really say anything,” Hanji shrugged. “At least nothing out of the ordinary. Just that he was packing up the samples so I could come over and pick them up in the Landie when we got back. He said something about some extra samples and data he wanted me to have a look at, but that was it. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”

“So a dead end then?”

“Not quite, I’ll show you tomorrow when we get over to Outer Rona.” 

It was a cold brisk day, with squalls of rain racing in from the sea, when Hanji and Mike drove over Westernish to catch the ferry to Ronsay. The rich purple of the heather had faded to a muted mauve and the island was starting to take on its winter hues. 

“Bit bleak,” Mike muttered, peering out the window, as a heavy shower of rain pelted against the windscreen.

“I guess,” Hanji shrugged, “some people find it beautiful.”

It was just after midday when they pulled up in the small car park at the end of the Outer Rona causeway, after stopping off at Bailleron to speak to a concerned Mags. A high tide had left drifts of seaweed banked along the edge of the causeway, which was wet and dark from the receding tide.

Mike sniffed and wrinkled his nose. “Fuck, it really is the arse end of nowhere…” 

Hanji pursed their lips but said nothing. 

As they drove around the coast and up over the hill, Mike whistled softly as the field station came into view, the gentle arc of beach curving round the bay, silver sand glittering in the rain. 

“I guess the arse end of the nowhere has its attractions.”

“You could say that,” Hanji replied as they pulled up in front of the house and got out of the Landrover. A pair of lapwings startled at the slam of the vehicle door, rising out of the long grass in a flurry of rapid wing beats and keening cries.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.”

The field station was cold and silent when Mike and Hanji entered. Erwin’s boots were placed neatly by the door, jackets hanging from their pegs. Mike ran his hand over a familiar waterproof, swallowing thickly as he followed Hanji into the kitchen. There was no obvious sign that the house had been suddenly or unexpectedly abandoned. The kitchen was pristine, every surface wiped clean and not a dish out of place. A wine bottle filled with long-dead flowers stood on the windowsill, and on the kitchen table, a laptop and phone sat beside two neatly coiled chargers and a small moleskine notebook.

Hanji shrugged off their jacket, plugged in the laptop and phone and turned them on. 

“Doesn’t look like he left in a hurry does it?” Mike remarked, wondering around the kitchen as Hanji waited for the devices to boot up. “His housekeeping’s certainly improved, his flat back home is always a tip, piles of books everywhere. Kinda weird being here…” 

“Hmmm, what?” Hanji asked distractedly, attention focused on the screens that were flickering into life in front of them. “Come and look at this Mike.” 

Mike pulled up a chair and sat down, as Haji opened a folder and started scrolling through the images it contained.

“Huh,” Mike said, peering at the images Hanji had pulled up. “Fish.” Hanji continued scrolling. “Okay, lots of fish. Why was Erwin taking pictures of fish?” 

“He wasn’t just taking pictures of them, he was catching them, dissecting them, badly I might add,” Hanji frowned and jabbed at the laptop screen. “Look at the mess he’s made of this one! That’s an incredibly rare specimen. I wonder what he did with them? Damn. I wish he’d told me about what he was doing I could have….” 

“The point Hanji?”

“Ah yes, sorry. The point is, Erwin was catching these fish, dissecting them and extracting the micro plastics. Look it’s all recorded here.” Hanji opened a spreadsheet of carefully annotated data. “All these fish had ingested substantial quantities of micro plastics.” 

“That’s…that’s not good right?” 

“No, it’s not good, it’s worse than not good. It’s worse than we ever though in fact, because these aren’t just any fish. These are deep-sea fish. And I mean _really_ deep-sea fish. I’ve never even seen half of these! Look at this one…I have no idea what that even is, it looks like a new species to me. And they all show traces of microplastics. This means that the pollution is much more extensive than we feared.” 

“Okay,” Mike said. “That's bad, but what about Erwin? You think he was out deep-sea fishing? You think he might have drowned?” 

“No, no,” Haji shook their head impatiently. “He didn’t have access to a boat. And even if he did, none of the boats round here are capable of fishing to that depth, they just don’t have the gear. And even when commercial deep-sea trawlers bring these fish to the surface by chance, they’re always mangled to bits by the nets. But these ones look almost pristine, apart from a few odd puncture wounds. Look, you can see them just here.” Hanji zoomed in on one of the images revealing four small round holes punctured in the fish’s belly.

“Could he have been diving for them?” 

Hanji gave Mike a flat stare. 

“Not unless he grew a set of gills. He didn’t have any kit. Besides, some of these fish live at depths that are way, _way_ beyond the capability of the average sports diver, even if he did have the specialist kit and knew how to dive.” 

“Huh. So, were’d they come from then?” 

“I wish I knew.” Hanji sighed. 

Mike rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So, we have a bunch of mysterious fish and no Erwin. What now?”

“There’s something else you need to see. ” 

Hanji picked up the moleskine sketchbook, its cover faded and spattered with salt water, and handing it to Mike. 

Opening the sketch book, Mike smiled as he flicked through the first few pages; views of the island, coastal profiles, a smudge of a boat in the distance, seals on the rocks, all carefully executed in pencil and ink.

“I’d forgotten Erwin could draw. He was pretty good back when we were in college. Looks like he hasn’t lost his touch.”

“I’ll say.” Hanji replied dryly. Mike looked up curiously at their tone.

“What?”

“Keep going.”

Mike turned the page. More seals. Page after page of seals, basking on the rocks, tails curled up like fat commas, curious heads popping up out of the water, gazing from the page with dark unfathomable eyes. Then here and there, among the seals, a dark haired man. Just a rough outline at first, a silhouette on a headland, outlined against the sea. As Mike turned the pages, the seals gave way and the man appeared more frequently, drawn in increasing detail; sitting on a rock by the shore, diving into the sea from a rocky promontory, standing at the kitchen sink, lying stretched out on a rock. One page was just dozens of sketches of the man’s striking face, drawn in loving detail, yes that was the word, from every conceivable angle. One page showed him standing from behind, light and shadow playing over the muscles of his back, a curious dark line running down the valley of his spine.

Mike raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, you might want to stop there,” Hanji said.

Mike continued turning the pages, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as he was confronted by an image of the man lying naked on his back, eyes closed, head thrown back, his erect cock curving up against his belly. 

“Jesus....” Mike squinted at the sketchbook turning it sideways for a better view

“I know right?” 

“He’s quite a looker. Who is this guy?”

“I don’t know,” Hanji answered pensively. “Nobody does. We’ve asked around and nobody seems to know him. No one’s even seen him, and on an island this size, that’s just weird. The police spoke to the ferrymen and no one answering his description has come on or off the islands.”

“Maybe he came off a fishing boat?”

“Spoke to the guys on the boats too, they’ve seen nothing.”

“Private yacht? There must be loads come and go over the summer.”

“There are,” Hanji nodded, “and the harbour master keeps a record of every single one.”

“Yeah but he’s not going to know every single passenger and crew member on every single boat is he?”

“Oh trust me,” Hanji laughed mirthlessly. “Callum makes it his business to know every single one. And their aunties, and their uncles, and their second cousins twice removed.”

“So you’re saying that no one’s seen this man arrive or leave the island?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Submarine? At least it might explain the fish...”

Hanji rolled their eyes. 

“Wait,” Mike said, “are there any pictures of this guy on Erwin’s phone?”

“No,” Hanji shook their head. “No pictures of mystery man, but loads and loads of pictures of Erwin.” 

“On his own phone? You mean selfies?” 

“No, well there are one or two selfies, but most look like they were taken by someone else.” 

“Mystery man?” 

“Maybe. Have a look and see what you think.” 

Hanji unlocked Erwin’s phone, muttering under their breath, “Idiot used his birth date for the passcode.” Then opened the photo gallery and handed it to Mike. “Most of the first pics are just views of the island and old shit from the mainland. There’s a few of you in there actually.” 

Mike flicked past the photographs until he came to the pictures of Erwin. There were dozens and dozens of them, many of them blurry and badly composed, as though the photographer was trying to figure out how the camera worked. Picture after picture of Erwin. Erwin on the beach, on the promontory, in the kitchen, lying naked in bed. Fuck. Mike blinked. In one series, Erwin appeared to be having a fight with the photographer, laughing as he tried to block the camera and wrestle the phone from them. Many of the pictures were candid head shots, and in every one Erwin wore the same expression, a soft smile quite unlike his usual cool professional mask. The last picture was a selfie, Erwin laughing into the lens, a glimpse of a dark head ducking out of shot. 

Mike shook his head. “Cute. But it doesn’t really help does it?” 

“No,” Hanji sighed, “it doesn’t.” 

“Where did the police find his clothes?” 

“Up at the top of the island, I can show you if you like, it’s not far.” 

The rain had stopped, as Mike and Hanji made their way up over the hill behind the field station and by the time they reached the high promontory overlooking the Rona Skerries the clouds had lifted, revealing a pale rain washed sky. 

“Iain the policeman found his clothes just here.” Hanji said, pointing to a flat rock set a couple of meters back from the cliff edge. “All folded up in a neat little pile.” 

“Huh.” Mike sniffed. “I knew there was something bugging me about that.” 

“About what?” Hanji asked curiously.

“The clothes. Erwin and I roomed together all through college, and I never once saw him fold an article of clothing. He was terrible like that. Completely hopeless. It’s a mystery how he managed to look so neatly turned out when his wardrobe was a complete fucking disaster.”

“You think someone else might have folded them?” 

Mike shrugged and sighed. “Honestly, I have no idea what to think Hanji.” 

They sat together looking out towards the skerries where two seals, one large and pale, the other smaller, darker, lay basking on the black rocks, as the grey waves churned and broke in a froth of white foam around them.

“Those picture on Erwin’s phone,” Mike started. 

“Uh huh?” 

“I can’t help thinking…”

“What?” Hanji turned their attention away from the skerries, towards their friend.

“Erwin…well, he looked, he looked really happy.”

“Happy?” 

“Yeah, I mean really happy. I can’t remember the last time I saw him looking like that. Maybe when he first got together with Marie but even then…” Mike tailed off. 

Hanji was silent for a moment. 

“He did look sort of loved up.” 

They sat and watched the two seals out on the skerry as the sun started to slip below the horizon. 

“The locals used to tell stories you know,” Hanji said, “about the seals.” 

Mike cocked his head, but continued gazing out to sea.

“About how some of them could shed their skin at will and take human form. Usually it was some naked chick turning up on a poor fisherman’s doorstep. But not always, sometimes it was a man, dark haired and handsome, who would appear once every seven years to offer solace to those who’d been unlucky in love.”

Mike hummed and nodded, but said nothing. 

“There’s one other thing I wanted to show you in Erwin’s sketch book,” Hanji said, pulling the small book from their pocket and flipping to the back page where a long string of numbers was written in Erwin’s familiar hand, and beneath the numbers, three letters; ES & L. 

“What’s that?” Mike asked, frowning at the page.

“It took me a while to figure it out,” Hanji laughed ruefully, “but it’s quite simple really. It’s a grid coordinate and a date.”

“Huh. Where and when?” 

“Here,” Hanji pointed to the rock they were sitting on. “Right here. Seven years from now.”

The sun slipped slowly into the sea, bathing the sky in a spectacular display of purples, reds and oranges, the last rays bathing the skerries in gold, gilding the pale seal, until it shone almost golden against the black rock, the small dark seal laying close by it’s side. 

“You know,” Hanji said, “I think we’ll see Erwin again one day.” 

Mike hummed quietly. “Yeah, wherever he is, whoever he’s with, I think he’s happy.”

As the light started to fade, the two seals slid silently into the water together. Hanji and Mike sat on the cliff top and watched as the ripples of their passing spread out and broke against the shore in gentle waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and commenting on this story, it's one I've wanted to write for years, though I didn't know quite how it would pan out. It's been a joy to write, and it's as much a love letter to the islands as it is to Erwin and Levi.


End file.
